Chapter Twenty-Five
I stand before TrainTech’s glass doors, my reflection a jittery hologram of the confident researcher I’m trying to be. My
blond hair is yanked back in a ponytail so tight it’s like I’m trying to physically hold my scattering thoughts together.
Adjusting my glasses, I suck in a breath that feels like it might crack my ribs. Moment-of-truth time. Tony has said he’d
move on, but I had to come clean to my team.
I approach our work zone and my team’s already deep in their morning routines. Hana’s got her noise-canceling headphones on,
lost in her monitors. Karl’s scribbling furiously on a whiteboard, his latest algorithm taking shape in a tangle of symbols
and arrows. Amir’s leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, clearly running through some problem in his head.
And me? My stomach’s doing its best impression of a washing machine on spin cycle.
“Morning, team,” I manage, my voice wavering like a rookie tightrope walker. “Before we dive in, there’s something that I
obviously need to address.”
I move to the front of the room, their gazes tracking me like heat-seeking missiles. My hands are shaking—the traitors—so
I knit my fingers together, a desperate attempt at steadiness.
Come on, girl. Time to switch from imposter to imposing. It’s now or never. “I owe you all an apology,” I begin, my voice stronger than I feel. “I’ve made big mistakes, and I want to own up to them. It’s specifically . . . some results I’ve been withholding. Results involving me and Gale Knight.”
The desks go quiet. Hana’s fingers freeze over her keyboard. Karl’s marker hovers mid-equation on the whiteboard. Amir leans
forward, brow furrowed.
“I . . .” I put my hands on my hips and lean forward, taking a deep breath and ordering my thoughts. The only way through
is with the truth. When I straighten back up, I am as ready as I can be. “I had a lot of fear over what the data might imply.
Worried about potential consequences to my personal life and friendships. The algorithm picked up on something I’ve been trying
to ignore. It detected a strong emotional connection between Gale and me. A romantic one. But by keeping this information
to myself, I compromised our research integrity and betrayed your trust.”
I force myself to meet their eyes, even as my stomach does backflips.
“But please believe me when I say that I’m committed to making this right. To being transparent moving forward. I know regaining
your trust will take time, but I’m prepared to do whatever’s necessary.”
The silence stretches, thick with tension. Then Karl breaks it, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. “Harriet . . .
why? Why didn’t you feel you could share this with us?”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the hardest part. They deserve the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it is for
me.
“The real reason is . . . I doubted the validity of our own system,” I admit, my voice low but steady. “But it goes deeper
than that. I’ve spent years fine-tuning algorithms to detect patterns in human behavior, but when E.M.M.A. picked up on something
in my own life, I couldn’t accept it. Because accepting it meant facing my own . . . inadequacies.”
I swallow hard, pushing through. “I kept thinking there had to be a bug, or the data was skewed. Because how could someone like him be interested in someone like me? I practically live in this office and spend more time with E.M.M.A. than actual people.”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Ironic, right? I built a system to understand human connections, but I couldn’t trust it with
my own. Because trusting it meant believing I was worthy of that connection.”
The silence that follows feels endless. Then, unexpectedly, Amir speaks up, his voice gentle. “Harriet, do you realize you’re
the one who taught us to trust the data, even when it surprises us?”
Hana nods, a small smile forming as she pushes back her bangs. “Yeah, and how many times have you told us that the most interesting
findings are often the ones that challenge our assumptions?”
Karl chimes in, his earlier frustration softening. “We’ve all been there, doubting ourselves. But you’ve always pushed us
to be better. Maybe it’s time you extended that same faith to yourself.”
Their words wash over me, a balm to my frayed nerves. I feel something tight in my chest begin to loosen.
“I . . . thank you,” I manage, blinking back tears. “You’re right. I’ve been so caught up in my own insecurities that I lost
sight of what we’re really doing here. I promise, from now on, total transparency. I’m committed to trusting our work, even
when—especially when—it challenges my own perceptions of myself and others.”
I look around at my team, gratitude replacing the fear in my gut. “I’m open to any questions or concerns you still have. How
can we move forward from here, together? And more important, beat the Chads?”
The tension begins to dissipate. Hana stands up, walking over to give my shoulder a squeeze. “First things first,” she says with a grin, “I think we need box seats for all Regals home games. You know, for the sake of the project integrity. And to see the Chads cry.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising me with its lightness. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe
again. We’ve got a long way to go, but with these guys by my side, I know we’ll figure it out.
We spend the next hour discussing the implications, the necessary adjustments to our data, the steps we’ll need to take to
ensure the integrity of our work going forward. It’s grueling, but as we wrap up, I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders.
We get ready to resume the normal workday, as Amir raises a hand.
“Do you have a question for the class?” I say in a teasing tone.
“For what it’s worth, boss,” he says, a small smile on his face, “I don’t think any of us are surprised about you and Gale.
That time when he came by here, the way he looked at you . . . well, let’s just say E.M.M.A. isn’t the only one who can see
a perfect match.”
“Dude, I didn’t expect you to be the sappy one.” Hana snorts. “But it’s true. We all were messaging about it.”
I frown. “There was nothing in the team group chat.”
“That’s because we made a separate one to gossip about the situation,” Karl says.
“A group chat?” I’m flabbergasted.
“We are Team Hale,” Amir says.
Karl shakes his head. “Weren’t we going with Garriet?”
“These are horrific and are forever forbidden.” I groan and walk away as they are still debating couple names. I have more
truths to tell.
I find Brooke in her living room an hour later, sitting on the floor folding tiny onesies, looking like she’s just gone ten rounds with a kraken. Her hair is in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes, and Baby Benji is strapped into a bouncer at her side, examining his hands.
“Hey,” I say softly, hovering in the doorway. “Got some time to talk?”
Brooke looks up, a weary smile crossing her face. “For you? Always. Come on in, pull up a cushion covered in spit-up.”
“Nah, I can help fold too.” I laugh, settling onto the floor beside her. Benji gurgles at me, his chubby hands reaching out.
I let him grab my finger, marveling at his tiny grip.
“First off. How are you holding up?” I ask, grabbing a pair of footie pajamas from her laundry basket.
Brooke adjusts Benji on her lap, suppressing a yawn. “Sleep? What’s that again? I’m running on coffee and sheer willpower
at this point. And yeah, I don’t want to think about the last time I really washed my hair.”
She glances down at Benji, who’s now contentedly gumming his knuckles. “Honestly, most days are a blur of diapers, feeds,
and praying for a solid three-hour stretch of sleep. It’s relentless. Exhausting. But then this little gremlin does something
new, like giggle at his own fart, and . . . I don’t know. It doesn’t make it easy, but it makes it feel worthwhile, you know?”
I nod, a lump forming in my throat. This is my best friend, the woman who’s been by my side through thick and thin. And I’ve
been keeping secrets from her.
“Brooke, I—”
“Harriet, I—”
We both speak at the same time, then stop, laughing awkwardly.
“You go first,” Brooke says, bouncing Benji as he starts to fuss.
I take a deep breath. “Brooke, I have to tell you something. It’s my—my feelings for Gale. I’ve been a terrible friend, keeping
secrets and—”
“Stop.” Brooke cuts me off, her voice firm but kind. “Harriet, if anyone needs to apologize here, it’s me.”
I blink, confused. “What? But I’m the one who—”
“Who felt like she couldn’t talk to her best friend about falling for a guy?” Brooke shakes her head.
“Wait.” I gape. “You know?”
“Dude. I know I haven’t slept for longer than three nights in a row in months, but I do have human eyes. And I’ve been thinking
about this a lot, H. I realized . . . I’m the one who created an environment where you felt you couldn’t be honest with me.”
She shifts Benji to her shoulder, patting his back gently. “I’ve always told myself I was protective of Gale. Especially after
Mom died. But the truth is, I abandoned him to deal with our dad alone.” She trails off, pain flashing across her face. “I
think my guilt over that made me overcompensate by being controlling about every other aspect of his life. And in the process,
I made you feel like you couldn’t express your feelings without risking our friendship.”
I feel tears pricking at my eyes. “Brooke, no, that’s not—”
“It is,” she insists. “I’ve been so caught up in my own grief, in trying to be strong for Gale, that I didn’t see what was
right in front of me. You two . . . you’re good for each other. It’s science.”
“I kept thinking about what happened with Jess after college.”
“Oh god. Come on, Harriet. You are not Jessa Hernandez. That Instagram filter come to life. Please, she had the emotional depth of a shot glass.”
“Girl, what? We all hung out.”